


Bitter Reunion

by TheUnkindledQueen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Implied Relationships, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnkindledQueen/pseuds/TheUnkindledQueen
Summary: When Rialto is left under siege, Angela and her team are sent to offer aid to the people, but she isn’t prepared for the reunion of a familiar face.





	Bitter Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Because I’ve seen so much good Moicy art, I was inspired by it to write a little snippet of angst for a longer fic I plan to write for them. Here it is, ya’ll.

~O~

Angela pulled a wounded man from the rubble.

He was crying with relief, his forehead soaked with blood and his body covered in burns. But it seemed as if he didn’t notice his wounds and instead expressed his gratitude to the woman in Italian. She didn’t speak the language, but the gratitude was heart-wrenching either way; the tears in his eyes, the way he clasped her hand and kissed it. Angela should have been happy for his reaction. But she wasn’t.

Talon had stormed Rialto and wounded many people. It wasn’t good enough what they were doing. There were people still dying. It seemed that no matter what they did, they could not save them. 

Angela caught a glimpse of movement at the corner of her eye and she quickly looked over, spotting the familiar sight of Lena approaching. It relieved her to see the other woman and not a Talon trooper; Angela had taken on her share of them for one night.

“Angela!” Lena said, smiling her relief. “Good, glad you’re all right, love.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Lena. Talon forces pushed hard toward the museum and this house was hit in the crossfire.” Angela furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “It doesn’t make sense. What could they have been after?”

“I don’t know,” Lena frowned now. She was troubled. 

Angela gestured to the wounded man at her side and helped him balance himself on her arm. “But I’ve found a survivor. He requires medical attention. Could you take him back to the drop-ship and have the crew assess his damages? There’s more I need to do here.”

“You got it.” Lena took the man’s hand and gently ushered him from the rubble. 

Angela could hear her trying to reassure the man as her eyes scanned the damage of the house. It wasn’t until she caught movement down the street that she looked to her left, spotting a very familiar form running from gunfire. A swirl of violet energy was thrown from long-nailed fingers. Red hair.

Wrathful, yet frightened features that she still recalled even after all these years.

Angela’s eyes widened and the breath was stolen from her, but for a second as memories came back to her, unbidden and unwanted; good and bad, they returned to her all at once.

“Moira!” she shouted.

She saw the woman look in her direction, pause at the edge of a bridge.

Angela’s heart hammered in her chest when she saw the older woman again for the first time in years. She was wearing body armor, tubes along her shoulders which no doubt aided in the use of her orbs as her older suit once had. 

Angela watched as Moira immediately recollect everything as well, a glimmer of realization and shock touching her gaze. She watched her squint once, glance over her shoulder to her pursuers before Fading away. 

Angela wasn’t having it.

“Moira!” she bellowed, anger in her voice. Her wings spread and she gave chase, light trailing behind her like a veil of fire. “COME BACK HERE!”

She knew it was a horrible idea to pursue her. Angela knew Moira would no doubt make it difficult, but her mind demanded answers to her betrayal and she would get them no matter what.

O

Angela followed Moira into the ruined museum, finding it empty. That was fortunate. At least there would be no innocent civilians caught up in their - what she quite easily expected - skirmish. Moira was a formidable woman on her own, but Angela wasn’t a pushover either.

Angela clutched the Caduceus Blaster in her hand, took a shaking breath and stepped out from behind the ruined wall she had been hiding behind. No one was there and she furrowed her brow, taking another breath to even out her racing heart.

_One…two…three…_

_Inhale. Exhale._

She heard footsteps on the balcony above her and scowled, whirling, but no one was there. Rubble from the attack occasionally fell from the holes in the ceiling, the noise echoing loudly in the vast hall. 

“Moira, I know you’re hiding in here,” Angela called, blaster held close. She forced strength in her voice. “You can come out now and make this easier on yourself." 

Moira had taken cover on the upper balcony, behind a statue of Hel, the Goddess of Death. She had her eyes closed as she endured the voice that had once been so utterly warm for her now filled with a myriad of cold emotions, all of which were directed to her. 

Angela was a formidable fighter all on her own, but Moira was determined to stay in control. 

“Come out, Moira,” Angela warned, making her way into the gift shop; her eyes scanned the area cautiously. “I know you’re here.”

She felt it then, a shift in the air that rustled the hairs on the back of her neck. She glanced back, quickly turning with her Staff and catching the side of Moira’s cheek as the older woman had crept up behind her.

Moira doubled over with a shout, clutching her cheek. Angela watched, backing away as Moira held her face with one hand, fresh crimson pooling in her mouth. She looked up at Angela, eyes two different shades of dark. 

Now being this close up to her, Angela could see that she had been wounded; her forehead was cut and fresh blood was dripping down her face. Her lip was now split from Angela’s contact with her staff, her red hair a tangled mess on her head. Parts of her violet armor had been cracked from what was possibly a blast from a grenade. 

Someone had gotten lucky enough to get that close to her.

“I suppose I was asking for that.” Moira said, her smile biting. She wiped the corner of her lip with one long-nailed finger before spitting blood to the side.

Angela noticed the purple, swirling orb of energy now appear in Moira’s decrepit right hand. She knew what it was and what it could easily do to her when it came in contact. That hand once touched her so reverently was now capable of killing her in seconds.

She also remembered when Moira had done that to herself. She remembered finding her face-down on the floor of her lab, choking on her own spit as she nearly succumbed to her own experimentation…

“Well?” Angela stood firmly now, but her voice trembled with hurt that she forced down her throat with a thick swallow. 

“Well?” Moira repeated, a bit perplexed by the question.

“I think I’ve earned an explanation for your change of colors.”

A snide chuckle from Moira. “You feel you’ve deserved an explanation? Of course. Your arrogance knows no limits, doesn’t it, Angela?”

Moira’s mismatched eyes locked with hers and for a split second, something changed in them. She looked down at the swirling orb in her hand before clenching her fist, extinguishing it.

Angela blinked in disbelief, eyes widening. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, voice catching once more. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“A bit late for that.” Angela’s arm remained high, blaster still leveled at Moira’s chest. She couldn’t stop the bitter anguish in her tone with her words. “_Der Kampf ist noch nicht vorbei!_ Bring that back up!”

Moira’s eyes hardened for a second before she raised her eyebrows. “Considering you were the one who drew first blood, I feel I’ve been generous. I’d like to talk sensibly.”

“Sensibly, right.” Angela’s pained, angry laugh echoed in the gift shop. “Let’s talk then.” She paced back and forth in front of Moira, determined to stay strong in her presence. “But what do we discuss now, Moira? Should we discuss you leaving Overwatch? Should we discuss the unethical work you’ve done to Gabriel - “

Now it was Moira’s turn to speak. She let out a guffaw of mocking laughter. “What I did??” she sneered, “I simply took what you started and made it better!” When Angela opened her mouth to speak, Moira just continued to hammer the truth home. “Gabriel’s condition BEGAN with you! Your technology in MY HANDS.”

She was being spiteful, vicious with her words; her eyes were wide, enraged and her teeth bared like an angry, wounded animal. Angela had never seen her so open before and it was mildly startling, but she fought to retain her control and her composure.

Still, she swallowed thickly and her voice trembled. “No, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Moira stepped closer, glaring down at her. “You can flaunt it all you’d like, Angela. You can lie to your friends and play the role of benevolent, guiltless doctor, but not to me! Only I can know who and what you truly are!”

A single long, dangerous finger jabbed her in her chest and Moira’s eyes were still filled with anger, but a flicker of hurt lit them for a second. 

“One who turned her back on someone who needed her there,” she whispered, venomously. “Why weren’t you there, Angela?” 

Angela’s gaze hardened, but her eyes became glassy, despite her best efforts. 

“I-I made a choice, Moira,” she whispered back, “_Verdammt._ I had to make that choice. The things you had written, the things you had done…”

She cut herself off, swallowing thickly and forcing down a small sob. She didn’t want to see Moira’s expression on her face, so she shut her eyes. 

Did she expect Moira to be softer now? No, of course not. Instead, she heard a cold, bitter scoff from the older woman’s lips. She was wounded, that much was certain.

“No, you were only willing to stand by my side when it was convenient for you,” Moira’s voice was softer now, disappointment in her tones, “And the moment they turned against me, you followed suit. I wanted to help humanity and Overwatch sought to stop me.”

Angela looked up at her sharply, anger renewed. “What? You can’t have it both ways, Moira, you know that! You chose to side with terrorists! How is that helping people?!”

Moira’s lip curled with disgust, but it didn’t linger. She was attempting to gain control over the situation, but it ultimately failed. She was wounded, exhausted and wanted to leave. But…she still remained, despite how dangerous it could be.

She was proven right when Angela pointed her blaster into her chest, right between the space of her breasts. A single shot would kill her at close range and Angela’s finger was on the trigger. Moira knew that emotionally, Angela could easily end it right now.

“Is it simple for you, Angela?” Moira asked, with a heavy sigh. “We both know you can’t hurt someone if they aren’t armed.”

Angela’s features twisted and an ugly, anguished shriek burst from her lips. “Why are you doing this to me?” she snarled, “WHY?”

Moira stared at her, lips parted. For a second, her eyes softened again and for the first time in years, she looked like her old self.

“I love you, Angela.”

Angela stared at her, eyes widening in shock; it was like someone had shot her directly in the chest. 

For a moment, it almost seemed to work; those words that Moira had failed to tell her for such a long time echoed in her mind over and over again. Such sacred, wonderful words that Angela had waited patiently until she was ready to say them. How she had wanted them so badly. How she had yearned to hear those words from Moira’s lips.

But they were just words to her now. She could not trust them.

And all the hurt from Moira departing, Moira joining their enemies overrode any feelings she could have felt for those words.

“Love? You don’t deserve to use that word.” Angela whispered, voice shaking. Her eyes filled and tears had started to fall down her cheeks. 

She backed away and Moira took one step toward her. She was being bitter, spiteful and cruel, but perhaps it had been warranted. Maybe Moira had always known it would end that way.

Now, the older woman no longer looked proud, despite her wounds. She looked anguished. 

"Perhaps I don’t. Perhaps I had lost the right to it…” Moira said, her voice smaller. “Maybe you no longer want to believe me.”

Angela forced strength in her voice. “I cannot CONCEIVE OF IT!” she shouted, torment and rage in her cry.

“Angela…”

“Just leave!” Angela shouted again, brandishing her blaster now. 

Moira didn’t move. She opened her mouth to speak, but Angela shut her eyes tightly.

“LEAVE!”

It took a few moments before there was a crackle, a smell of smoke and Fade activating before Angela opened her eyes again.

Moira was gone.

And she was alone again.

Angela took a moment to register what had happened before she slowly crumbled to her knees, dropped the blaster and fisted her hands against her eyes as she let out a tormented series of sobs. 

On the other side of the city, Moira had Faded into an alley, slowly walking away from the Talon troops and everything else. Perhaps the mission had been a success, perhaps not. She leaned against the wall and let out a long, shuddering sigh before finally, the tears fell.

Pressing her forehead against the wall, she quietly wept; punching the wall once, weakly without conviction she slid to the ground, pulled herself up into a ball and continued to cry. 

It wasn’t supposed to hurt her.


End file.
